“You didn’t give me a choice,” she said. “You made that decision for me.”
“I’m not staying,” she said. “I have a life in Buenos Aires. I have a daughter who calls me every Sunday. I have a garden that needs tending. I have a cat who will starve if I’m not home by tomorrow.”
She looked at the water, at the last sliver of sun disappearing below the horizon. The sky was darkening, the first stars beginning to appear. Somewhere behind them, the city was lighting up, streetlamps flickering to life, windows glowing gold and white.
